Iris
by Elanor Whiteriver
Summary: Harry, fazed by a recent loss, finds comfort in the arms of a least likely 'comrade.' Heavy HD slash.
1. Iris

Iris  
  
Songfic...Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls.  
Summary: Harry, fazed by a recent loss, finds comfort in the arms of a least likely 'comrade.'  
Warnings: Unlikely, and MAYBE you could call it slash. Maybe. And if it is slash....Harry/mystery man...  
HP doesn't belong to me, blah blah blah........  
  
  
  
~  
  
Harry found himself crying bitterly in his room, fingering Hedwig's delicate feathers. Hours ago, Hermione had been sitting with him in the Common Room...but now she was nowhere to be found.  
  
Presumed kidnapped.   
  
It figured. Of course he suffered his own pains, but now he was faced with the loss of someone nearly as dear to him, if not dearer, than a sister. No, he didn't love her _that_ way, but he loved her, nontheless.  
  
~And I'd give up forever to touch you~  
  
It was unbearable pain, just sitting there, gazing heartlessly at the snow. He knew Hermione was out there somewhere - he could feel it...yet he couldn't save her.  
  
~'Cause I know that you feel me somehow~  
  
Hermione helped him out so much - she was the book and brains, the glue, but also a strong tree to lean against. Harry was sure she had to be some sort of godly gift to him.  
  
~You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be and I don't want to go home right now~  
  
More silver tears leaked out of his swollen, red eyes.  
  
~And all I can taste is this moment, and all I can breath is your life~  
  
If only he'd had just one more day with her, he could try to include her and attempt to follow along with her ideas. Just once, to appreciate her. He'd never thought of that before.  
  
~'Cause sooner or later it's over~  
  
Harry really wished he'd had one more day with her, just one. Just one to appreciate her! Just one day, 24 damn hours. No more.  
  
~I just don't want to miss you tonight.~  
  
He realized that it was going to be dinner soon, and glumly left his quarters, heading for the Great Hall.  
  
~  
  
As Harry walked downstairs, he noticed that Draco was walking not too far from him, and surprisingly enough, not teasing him. Today was certainly an odd day.  
  
~And I don't want the world to see me~  
  
Though his face was hidden in a bowed head, Draco knew that Harry had been crying, just from a glimpse of his former state, through connections he didn't want to reveal.  
  
Secretly, he almost admired the Potter kid. Almost.  
  
~'Cause I don't think that they'd understand~  
  
Harry made sure no one was looking and darted into an empty classroom, not daring to go to the Great Hall and be badgered by others, wanting to know what was wrong. They knew perfectly well what was wrong.  
  
~When everything's made to be broken~  
  
A squeak came from the doorway, and Harry looked up abruptly, trying in vain to rub the tear marks off his face,  
  
"Potter?" Draco said gently, walking slowly towards Harry.  
  
"If you're here to harrass me, leave. I don't need it today." Harry walked to the back of the room and once again sat down.  
  
"I'm not here to harrass you. I...I guess....well, I guess I feel sorry for you. Not that I'm attached to Crabb and Goyle, but it has to be hard to lose one of the only, say, 3 people who understand you."  
  
"Thanks, but no thanks. What do you want?" Secretly, though, Harry felt comfortable around Draco this time, letting down his walls, feeling vulnerable, yet protected by a knowledge that Draco was actually seeking to help him.  
  
"I just wanted to tell you that, well...now that Weasley's home for Winter Break...I could be a shoulder, you know..." Draco blushed slightly, but didn't look down.  
  
"Thank you, Draco." Harry walked over to Draco, no longer ashamed of his blotchy face or bedraggled hair.  
  
"At select times, Potter, er, Harry, we all need solace, no matter where it comes from."  
  
"Thank you." Harry hugged Draco, a gesture that both appreciated.  
  
"Remember, this never happened, if anyone asks."  
  
"Agreed." And with that, they both went their seperate ways.  
  
~I just want you to know who I am.~  
  
~And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming  
Or the moment of truth in your lies  
When everything seems like the movies  
Yeah you bleed just to know your alive  
And I don't want the world to see me  
Cause I don't think that they'd understand  
When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am  
I don't want the world to see me  
Cause I don't think that they'd understand  
When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am  
I just want you to know who I am  
I just want you to know who I am  
I just want you to know who I am  
I just want you to know who I am~  
  
~  
Please R/R! PLEASE!!!! I beg of you!!!  
PK 


	2. Mayapple

Iris: A Continuation:  
  
Mayapple  
  
HP doesn't belong to me, blah blah blah...  
  
OH! VERY IMPORTANT! - Book 5 spoiler.  
  
---  
  
Harry swallowed the stone lump in his ever tightening throat. The crystallized tears that had stuck like superglue to his cheeks were beginning to feel colder than his bedsheets.  
  
"Hermione..." he whimpered. He remembered back in second year, when she had been brought back to life, in fifth year, when they had nearly died together...  
  
He didn't need to think about losing Sirius right now. It was so much more than he could bear, especially without Ron there.  
  
What he needed right now was a friend. More than anything else. Hell, he would have talked to Professor Snape, if he would have listened.  
  
Hedwig merely tended to hoot in protest, nonchalantly, when he would try to talk to her.  
  
And then he remembered.  
  
Two days previously, Draco had given him that promise, given him a place. Given him someone.  
  
But Draco was probably sleeping, for while their curfews on holiday were two hours after this time, Harry knew that Draco needed to sleep; he was surprisingly an early riser, as Harry had learned when Draco would persecute him just as he was rubbing the sleep from his eyes on the way to breakfast.  
  
Harry, holding on to a shred of the hope that Draco might be in that one hallway, on the second floor, rose from his bed. The thought of seeing anyone made him feel just as warm as he did when he slept in any of the Weasley's beds.  
  
---  
  
In his crimson and gold robe and red slippers, Harry sat down against a wall.  
  
It had been stupid to come here after all.  
  
As Harry was getting up to leave, running a clammy hand through his messed-up hair, he heard the shuffle of slippers against the carpet.  
  
It wasn't...it couldn't have been...  
  
"Draco?" Harry whispered tentatively.   
  
"Yeah?" Harry could tell the boy was turning his head up, for while his back was turned to the Slytherin, he knew the gesture too well from watching.  
  
The raven-haired boy looked around to see if anyone was nearby; they weren't. He continued shakily. "Umm...you...you remember what you...what you said, I mean...did you...did...did you mean it?" Harry inquired softly, his hands shaking.  
  
"I suppose, Potter, depending on what you're looking for." Malfoy stated with a warmness in his tone that Harry could not believe.  
  
Harry gasped slowly but relaxed soon after when he felt Draco's arms encircle his waist. He turned, placing his head against Draco's.  
  
"Potter?" Draco murmured.  
  
"Y-yes?" stammered the boy through a haze of emotion.  
  
"The portraits are staring." he remarked bemusedly.  
  
"Let them stare, Draco...please just...just don't...don't go." Harry's tone was glass within Draco's hands.  
  
"All right then." Draco shifted his head slightly, looking at Potter, green eyes and all, staring into those depthless orbs.  
  
And maybe it was something in the Christmas air, maybe it was the dim torch-light of the halls, maybe it was the cold of the night, but for all Harry could tell, it was camaraderie and a sort of timid love that bound them there, locked in a shared embrace.  
  
Their faces were so close they could smell the mint of each other's mouthwash. Harry was wonderfully aware of the sillken robes Draco wore. Draco's hands shifted behind Harry's back.  
  
As their noses brushed, their lips met very slightly, shyly, for only a second. Several times that occured. Neither could tell if his cheeks were red from the cold of the castle or from infatuation.  
  
Harry once again swallowed, tightening his arms around Draco. "Thank you," he whispered hoarsely, freeing tears from his eyes, reluctantly recognizing that he needed to go back to bed.  
  
"Any time, Potter," Draco muttered, before continuing, "as long as no-one knows."   
  
Harry only nodded and walked away.  
  
"Wait," commanded the Slytherin. Obediently, Harry brought his sniffling, shaken body over to where Draco stood.   
  
Malfoy brought him into a kiss more gentle than snow, more wise than Dumbledore, more old than Dumbledore. Harry returned it, and then he knew it.  
  
Hermione would be okay. Draco reassured him of that.  
  
She would come back.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Weeee. I got all mushy while writing this, hope you got the same feeling while reading this if you're not a homophobe.  
  
Elanor Whiteriver  
  
PS Any/all reviews gladly accepted, be they flame or fun! 


	3. Morning Glory

The SECOND Continuation of Iris:  
  
Morning Glory  
  
Hee hee, I like flowers. Harry and Draco are so cute! And a big fat thanks to everyone who's reviewed!  
  
HP doesn't belong to me. It belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
"Hermione!" Harry ran breathlessly towards the door of the Common Room as an equally breathless Hermione emerged from it. He nearly ran her over as he caught her in a gargantuan hug.  
  
"I was...so worried," he smiled, closing his eyes in blissful disbelief.  
  
"It's really all-right, Harry. But thank you." Hermione's mouth curled upwards, her bushy brown hair smothering Harry's maniacally grinning face.  
  
When the two separated, Harry thought back to a few nights ago. His smile grew more at the thought of that, and blood rushed to his face even faster, if that were possible. Draco.  
  
"Ron!" exclaimed Hermione when she saw the redhead come down from his dormitory.   
  
"Hermione!" returned the boy, as he hurried over to the two and all three were caught in a giant smiling hug.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Harry walked to breakfast with Ron and Hermione. He was deliriously happy. Truly.  
  
"Say, Harry," Ron began, "how exactly did you survive that? You were more depressed than Oliver was when we lost the House Cup that one year," he commented.  
  
"Oh, umm, I suppose Hedwig must have done the trick." Harry's eyes shifted left and right, knowing that he couldn't tell Ron about Draco; not that he'd wanted to, of course.  
  
"You're really a lousy liar, you know that, Harry? Now tell me!"  
  
"Well, you know how nice those portraits can be at times-"  
  
"Ron," dragged Hermione, shaking her head. "if Harry has some sort of something he can't tell us, then he won't. He should be allowed to have a secret after all, considering what you and I-"  
  
"_Anyway,_" interrupted Ron, "we were saying?"  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Across the dining hall, sitting under a green tapestry, was Draco Malfoy, sleek blonde hair and all. Next to him on either side were Crabb and Goyle.   
  
Harry's heart fluttered and quickly he took a great fascination with the scrambled eggs on his plate.  
  
"Harry," Ron nudged the boy in his ribs. "are you looking at Cho Chang again?"  
  
"No, Ron," he muttered. For once it was the honest truth to that question.  
  
Ron was taken aback by the fact that he didn't actually seem to be looking at Cho, or thinking about her. Bloody Hell, thought Ron, are you gay or something, Harry?  
  
~~~~~~  
  
"Draco," moaned Harry as his eyes flashed open. His face was flushed and sweaty, his pajama top slipping off of his shoulder. He shook his head, tucked one runaway lock of hair behind his ear, and went back to sleep.  
  
In the meantime, on the other side of the castle, in Slytherin...  
  
"Harry," whispered Draco. He shifted his body to one side, propping himself up on one elbow. His breath was fast and heavy. He blinked several times, trying to remember that dream. Ah, he smiled smugly to himself, Potter.  
  
In the meantime, back in Gryffindor girls' dormitory...  
  
"Ron?" asked Hermione.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
Wow, that was short, but I think I like it. Where is it going? I don't know! So be assured, Harry doesn't like Hermione, Draco of course is madly in love with Harry, and...and...Ron? Well, you'll see what happens to him.   
  
Elanor Whiteriver  
  
PS Once again, any/all reviews, thanks! 


	4. Roses

Iris: Third Continuation:  
  
Roses  
  
Oh, sweet mush. Be warned, heavy heavy heavy slash. Okay, not a lemon, but still. Just a step below that. In order to be protective with the little kiddies' eyes I think I'm making this one R...just caution, people.  
  
HP belongs to JK Rowling, not me, blah blah blah.  
  
HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE! THAT's THREE NEW CHAPTERS IN TWO DAYS!  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
Harry felt flushed with desire, his breath steam on Draco's shoulder as he felt the smooth skin on his back.  
  
"Love you," he murmured through the blonde's neck.   
  
"Love you, too," Draco managed to grunt, bringing his face down to Harry's, kissing him with a passion greater than that of Snape's for torturing his Gryffindor students.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
"God, Draco, you'll be the death of me," Harry said to himself. He closed his eyes in remembrance of the dream.   
  
He needed desperately to talk to Draco, and feeling more connected to him than he ever had (excepting, of course, that Christmas Eve), he decided to try his luck with the second floor corridor.  
  
He pulled his robe over his sweaty body hastily, shoving his feet into slippers, hurrying himself out of the dormitory trying not to make a sound with the door.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
Draco Malfoy sat against a wall in the Charms corridor, staring up into the great brown eyes of a wizard's portrait. Yet he couldn't read the name. He couldn't think straight, except of course about one thing.  
  
Harry.  
  
"Fuck, Harry, is there something wrong with me? Am I delusioned to think that you can tell when I'm here?" Draco stood to leave when he heard a sudden reply.  
  
"No, I don't think so," breathed a raven-haired boy with a scar on his forehead.  
  
"Harry," he exhaled happily. Quickly the two embraced, with no trace of the earlier wintry timidity they'd had. It appeared to both that their dreams had been shared.  
  
"Had...had a dream, Draco...needed...to talk to you...oh, God..." Draco had begun caressing his chest, undoing his robe, planting little kisses along his neck.  
  
"Draco..."  
  
"Shh, I know...I had the same thought...there's a room..."   
  
"Shall we...?" Harry whispered, pressing a hard kiss to Malfoy's lips.   
  
"Shall you _what_?" demanded a voice Harry knew very well. Ron. And he was just a corner away from them.  
  
Fuck, thought Harry. "Get out of here now. Before he sees you," whispered Harry out of the corner of his mouth.  
  
Draco darted out of the way, into an empty classroom.  
  
"Harry, what was going on here?" Ron exclaimed incredulously.  
  
"I was...I was..."  
  
"What, Harry, fucking one of the potraits? Jacking off to the sight of the knight's armour? Necking with _Malfoy_?" snarled the redhead.  
  
"No. Reading a book I found under your _bed_, Mister I-Shag-My-Best-Friend-Every-Chance-I-Get!"  
  
"How- how did you- Hermione's gonna- I'm sorry, Harry, really I am," Ron shook his head in disbelief. With that he walked away.   
  
"It really sucks having a friend who's Head Boy. I'm going to need more tact," Harry stated.  
  
"I think I can give you a lesson in that, Harry."  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
Dear God. Where do I get this?  
  
Elanor Whiteriver  
  
PS Any/all reviews!!! 


	5. Thistle

Iris: (Let's just call it chapter five...no longer are they continuations)  
  
Thistle  
  
HP doesn't belong to me. Blah blah blah.   
  
If you like MKR go read Through Blind Eyes - I've got a new chapter. More Hikaru angst.  
  
Anyway...more slash. More slash. A little bit of boy-bitch fighting. And then some more slash.  
  
(that was your warning, if you're so thick you didn't catch it. So leave if you object to H/D or slash or any of that junk. Otherwise please do read on.)  
  
~~~  
  
Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy lay next to each other, neither sleeping, though both were fairly eluded to the fact that the other wasn't.  
  
Harry flipped onto his side, looking at Draco, and nearly shrieked when he saw Draco's eyes staring back at him.  
  
"Morning, love," Draco stifled a yawn and nonchalantly ran a hand through his blond hair.  
  
"Morning," Harry shifted onto his stomach, resting his arms underneath his head. He shivered as Draco proceeded to climb on top of him, blowing in his ear.  
  
"Wait. Morning?" Harry questioned, raising both his eyebrows as high as the castle upon looking out the window, which showed that everything was dark. The clock pointed to three A.M.  
  
"Yes, Harry, three o'clock in the morning."  
  
"Plenty of time left, then," Harry lowered one of his high eyebrows suggestively.  
  
"Oh, but not nearly enough," complained Draco, resting his face in Harry's scruffy locks.  
  
"I suppose we'll have to make do then, won't we?" Harry smirked.  
  
"If you put it that way...Gods, Harry..." The Boy Who Lived had flipped over and was occupying his hands rather effectively.  
  
"Now, you see what I mean. Four hours is plenty of time."  
  
"More than...enough..." panted the blonde.  
  
~~~  
  
Harry fastened his robe around himself. Six thirty-four A.M. Draco was busy with the same task, for these things tended to stick when one was rather sweaty.  
  
"See you later, Draco," murmured Harry after finishing with his robe and slippers. He gave him one quick kiss before walking out the door, making sure no one was there.  
  
"Bye, Harry," said Draco, emerging from the room a few minutes later.  
  
~~~  
  
"Where in God's name were you, Harry?" Ron eyed the boy suspiciously.  
  
"Showering." It was the truth, after all. He had definitely needed a shower.  
  
"Before that, prat."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"You weren't in your bed."  
  
"Of course I was."  
  
"Yeah. And Neville's going to pass Potions."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes and walked to breakfast.  
  
Harry sighed. Hermione, on his left, shrugged, and walked alongside Harry, always helpful when he was confused. Yet he couldn't tell her this time what was bothering him.  
  
~~~  
  
"Harry, I know it's not any of my business, but what's going on? You've been awfully quiet lately," Hermione looked at him with concern flowing through her eyes.  
  
"Nothing," he smiled.  
  
"Whatever you say, Harry," she shook her head.  
  
"Look, it's about Ron. He's on my tail, and I'm afraid he's going to...well, you know I have a secret...and I'm not going to tell you! It's just, well, he...could you talk to him?"  
  
"Of course, Harry," Hermione smiled and then began to mutter under her breath. "and he also needs some talking-to about the way he does certain other things." She winced as a familiar pang reverberated about her abdominal region.  
  
~~~  
  
0.0! What's with Hermione? Read and find out!   
  
Elanor Whiteriver  
  
PS Review, I say! Review! 


	6. Forget Me Not

Iris: Chapter Six:  
  
Forget-Me-Not  
  
*laughing* well the title is based on the weird little Nova on "ORCHID HUNTER!" I found it to be hysterical. [I had originally titled it Orchid, but then I decided that perhaps Forget-Me-Not might be better for this chapter considering what Usagi says about them in the SMR movie]  
  
Well, people, sorry....it's been more than a month. I promise a happy little (or big) chapter...*please don't throw things at me*.  
  
Usual warnings, a certain amount of slash between oh-so-attractive sixth year blokes. Perhaps a little bit of written/implied sex, some language, etc... Said blokes and friends, etc do not belong to me. They belong to JK Rowling. Only the plotline is MINE. MINE ONLY. MY PRECIOUS.  
  
And in RotK, did anyone else notice that when Sam strangles Gollum once, it sounds like he's saying 'stinking douche bag'? Well, maybe I'm losing it.  
  
Forgive me if you don't like Harry's pants. I've just had a little obsession with Curt from Velvet Goldmine's wardrobe lately.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Harry Potter lay on a bed, in a room off the Charms corridor. He was on his stomach, half-naked, writing in black, spidery scrawl over the parchment in his excuse for a journal. Yet the ink had changed from its depthless colour to a vibrant red in his eyes. The world was just a bit rosy for him on the whole, and that meant one of three things to him. He was either looking through a wine glass, on drugs, or in love. But he was pretty sure he was in love. Then again, though, he could have just been taking in ridiculous amounts of cocaine or heroin or something without knowing it. Harry sighed.  
  
"Dammit, Draco. Where are you?" He closed the book, hanging his head over the edge of the bed and running fingers over his muscled chest.  
  
"Hey, mate. I thought that was my job," Draco commented slyly. He gently closed the wooden door.  
  
"I knew you wouldn't stand me up."  
  
"Well, I would have, excepting, of course, the fact that you are the most fucking *delicious* piece of ass I've ever seen in leather."  
  
"You like 'em?" Harry gestured toward the silvery garment he wore on his legs, his robes tossed into a corner.  
  
"Hell, yes," Draco breathed. He moved towards the raven-haired boy. His mouth met Harry's in a rough and needy junction. Their hips ground against each other's, eliciting silent sparks. Draco's hands moved down over Harry's back, eventually touching his firmed ass, pushing their pelvises even closer together.  
  
"I think," Harry murmured between fervent kisses,"you should get..a pair...yourself, mate."  
  
"I can, of course, use yours later."  
  
"Definitely." The two collapsed onto the bed.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Ron!" Hermione stormed into the common room, emerging from a particularly nasty bout of vomiting.  
  
"Hermione, you look absolutely atrocious. What happened?"  
  
"Thanks for your concern," she rolled her eyes, "but what did I tell you about not wanting to get pregnant?" She put her hands over her stomach.  
  
"But I wore- I wore-"  
  
"Smart man, are you sure it didn't break?"   
  
"You can get an abortion," he pleaded with her.   
  
"But my parents back in London...they won't let me!"  
  
"They don't have to know."  
  
"Ronald Weasley!" she shrieked. At that moment, Ron saw a scary semblance between his girlfriend and his mother.  
  
"Okay, okay, calm down. Sorry." He brought himself over to Hermione and gave her a hug. "We'll figure it out."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Who would have known," whispered the blonde to Harry, "that we would ever...you know...."  
  
"Certainly not me."  
  
"I suppose we have the Mudbl- er, Hermione to thank for this, after all."  
  
"You're right. I love you, Draco." He twined his fingers in Draco's, rubbing his hip against the sweaty sheets as he flipped onto his side to admire his incredbily attractive lover.  
  
Draco shook his head. "This is really starting to resemble a soap opera, Harry."  
  
"Sorry. Anyway, I'm a little bit fearful about Ron. I mean, he's definitely suspicious. While I've still got blackmail on him - Hermione, of course - he's perfectly capable of spreading rumours."  
  
"I suppose we'll have to use a little more tact, then."  
  
"That sounds familiar," murmured Harry.  
  
"No shit."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Short chapter. Sorry, people. Happy new year.  
  
Elanor Whiteriver 


	7. Bittersweet

Iris: Chapter Seven:  
  
Bittersweet  
  
I'm sorry I haven't updated in so long, but it's because I've been working on other H/D projects...But We Were Young, and a little one-shot I think will be enjoyed entitled Guitars and Shiny Paper.  
  
I'm trying to avoid rambling here, so I'll just start writing...  
  
HP doesn't belong to me, blah blah blah blah blah.  
  
~~~  
  
"If some of you would care to pay a bit of _attention_," he cleared his throat, "perhaps you would know exactly where we can find the necessary mugworm's blood for this potion. Mr. Potter?" Snape coughed, eyeing the boy maliciously.  
  
Harry had not heard him. In the middle of the dank dungeon, next to Hermione and Ron, he was doodling letters and faces, all of which wound up the same. Draco.  
  
"Harry!" hissed Hermione, elbowing him in the ribs.  
  
"Oh, right...sorry...I don't know, sir." He lowered his head back to his doodles.  
  
"Detention, Potter. Five points from Gryffindor." Harry rolled his eyes, not caring very much. It was a regular occurence by now. Snape continued. "Miss Granger, please put your hand down." Harry chuckled bemusedly as Hermione sighed, her arm falling to the table defeatedly.  
  
Meanwhile, Draco, too, was doodling in his notes as Snape spoke to him. "Mr. Malfoy? Would you be so kind as to inform us where one can find a mugworm?"  
  
"I thought we were in Potions, not Care of Magical Creatures," he muttered distractedly.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, please answer my question," demanded Snape in a threateningly low voice.  
  
"Just ask the Mudblood, she knows, she always does," mocked the blonde, adding quietly, "prude."  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, I am sad to have to say this, but you will be serving detention with me after classes as well. The both of you, Malfoy, Potter, six o'clock. Now, the mugworm is rather commonly found in swamps where..."  
  
Harry zoned out somewhere along the way when he heard that he'd be doing detention with Draco.  
  
~~~  
  
Harry walked lethargically along the Transfiguration corridor, dreading the next two hours he'd be spending copying sentences with his favorite professor. It didn't matter much that he would be doing it with Draco, though, he decided, because there was no way they'd even get to talk.  
  
"Potter, you're late." Snape's greasy, oozy voice echoed about the dungeon hall.  
  
"Sorry, Professor," he replied tritely, traipsing into the classroom only to be shooed back out by Snape, Draco following him.  
  
"Because the two of you are so negligent of the mugworm, I hope you'll learn enough about it when you find it and bring me back a juvenile specimen. I'm nearly out of it, anyway. Off to the swamp with you." Snape flicked his hands at them, and they dared not exchange skeptical glances until they were all the way up the stairs.  
  
~~~  
  
Draco couldn't believe his luck. Alone with Harry for two hours, just to find a lousy worm? He could practically taste the euphoria. In fact, he was quite sure he could.  
  
They raced each other out to the edge of the forest, nearing the swamp so they could get what they needed. It took only a few minutes to find the proper animal, and Draco placed it carefully into a jar of mud, then into the bag he used to carry his books.  
  
They hadn't been together in weeks, and it showed. Draco knocked Harry to the ground, showering his face and neck with rough kisses. Soon enough, both boys were rid of their top layer of robes.   
  
"Drake, now. I need you _now_," Harry panted against Draco's mouth as the two continued to wrestle.  
  
"Aw, but that isn't any _fun_, Harry."   
  
"I don't care, mate. Fuck me. Now."  
  
"No way in fucking....hell..." The blonde shivered as Harry began to remove his sweater, unbutton his shirt, the cool February air licking his skin.  
  
"Wanker," murmured Harry as he sucked on Draco's nipple, blowing on it, causing his lover to squirm.  
  
"All right, mate, all right...I give in! Stop!" Draco laughed, bringing Harry up to him for a searing kiss.  
  
~~~  
  
"Hermione, really, I don't get it. It's nothing new for me, McGonagall hates me, but really, how did you wind up with a detention?"  
  
"I don't know, Ron. I don't know," she said, pushing open the great wooden door that led to the forest path, "but she could give us something more worthwhile to do than collect rats for transfiguration practice."  
  
"Well, you know McGonagall, loves to occ- bloody fucking _hell_," squeaked the redhead.  
  
"What? Ron? R-" Hermione, too, went pale as she stared in the direction of whatever was frightening Ron.   
  
At the end of the path lay Draco Malfoy and Harry, naked.   
  
~~~  
  
I don't know if it's really a cliffhanger, but I felt like being evil. So ha.  
  
R/R please!  
  
Elanor Whiteriver 


	8. Knotweed

Iris: Chapter Eight:  
  
Knotweed  
  
Usual warnings... language, sex, slash, etc. But you should know that by now if you're here.  
  
HP doesn't belong to me, blah blah blah blah blah.  
  
Harry lay in a lingering red glow, exhausted from their lovemaking. He turned on his side, staring at his all but gorgeous boyfriend. And what he saw beyond Draco's perfect body freaked him out so much that he was torn between turning white and red.  
  
"Oh, fuck, fuck, bloody fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck..." Harry shook a fist at himself, trying to put on his clothing as fast as he could. Screw the boxers. The pants were the real concern.  
  
"Wha' is it, love?" Draco was obviously still in that pleasant haze. And then he looked around. "Shit." Draco, too, began to scramble for his clothes.   
  
Hermione and Ron, with mouths gaping as wide as the English Channel, proceeded toward the couple in utter disbelief, once they had become decent.  
  
They were both too incredulous to say anything. So they just kept walking, like a malfunctioning cartoon without sound.  
  
Surprisingly enough, Ron spoke first, throwing that grudged silence into the jaws of Fluffy.  
  
"Did Harry get raped? Is he all right? Oh, God, why couldn't I have just goofed off and gotten a detention in Snape's class..."  
  
"Ah, Ron -"  
  
"But NO, I had to go and save that mischief for McGonagall's class. Of course. Bloody stupid me...."  
  
"Ron -"  
  
"I'm such a wanker! Now Harry's been banged up the ass and God knows where else and it's all my-"  
  
"RON!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I don't think this was exactly non-consentual. Not trying to be graphic or anything, but.. but.." she swallowed hard, "Draco's got a hickey the size of Scotland."  
  
"I'm sorry, Hermione, I think I misheard you. Did you just imply that Harry left fucking love bites on Draco Malfoy's fucking neck?"  
  
"That's... about the size of the situation."  
  
Ron fainted.  
  
Harry, for once being forward about things, ran up to Hermione, leaving a frantic but still cool Draco behind him.  
  
"Herm, this isn't how it looks, I promise..."  
  
"It's okay, Harry. I'm just... shocked, is all." Hermione shook her head, cleared her throat, and put on her best it's-nothing mask. "How long?"  
  
"Maybe a few months," Harry replied sheepishly.  
  
"So that's what's had your knickers in a twist. I get it now."  
  
"Yeah..." He didn't feel that he had the potential to look Hermione in the eye.  
  
"Ah, Harry, now that that's sorted out... I need to talk to you."  
  
"Sure. Anything. But can it wait until after dinner?"  
  
"...Yes. I suppose."  
  
"Great. Thanks, Herm." He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and ran off to Draco, nearly avoiding stepping on Ron's face.  
  
Okay, short... but I've had writers block. R/R please.. it's my first update to anything in maybe... what, 4, 5 months?  
  
Elanor Whiteriver 


	9. Heard it through the Grapevine

Iris: Chapter Nine: 

(Heard it on the) Grapevine

Warnings: Sexual content, homosexual relationships, intolerant!Ron, adult language, bad faux British accents (I can only assume)... are you even reading this?

HP doesn't belong to me. Neither does tATu. Blah blah blah blah blah.

---------

Hermione slapped Ron's face hard, and finally her boyfriend came to. She decided against reminding him of precisely why he'd fainted, and instead dragged him by the wrist to McGonagall's classroom, a sack full of squirming rats clutched in her hand.

----------

Harry and Draco walked sluggishly back to the castle, Draco toting the backpack that held the mugworm. They hadn't spoken since Harry returned from his little confessionary with Hermione.

This wasn't a comfortable silence, and they both knew it.

"Harry, this is a fucking disaster. What do you think it will do for my reputation if everyone finds out that I've been shagging my 'arch nemesis'?"

"You aren't my arch nemesis. Voldemort is."

"God, Harry, I'm trying to have a fucking conversation with you."

"Sorry."

"Anyway, knowing Weasley, it won't take long for this to get out to his family, and then undoubtedly to the rest of the school. This was a fucking mistake. I knew it." Draco ran a pale hand through his hair, exhaling loudly.

"No, no, Draco, please... we can work it out..." Harry's voice faded as he realized the futility of his efforts. He knew Draco because he knew himself; and he knew that both of them were incredibly stubborn.

The remaining distance passed in a sad, pensive silence, Harry fruitlessly searching for reasons to avoid the breakup and Draco fruitlessly searching for excuses as to why he and Harry were not only dirty, but sported noticeable hickeys.

Snape greeted them with his usual enthusiasm, snatching the jar from Draco and shooing them off with his hands. Draco turned towards the Slytherin dungeon while Harry continued climbing those tortuous stairs. He sent one last glance towards Draco, their eyes connecting and full of regret for a fleeting moment before Draco's froze over into the expression Harry was too familiar with.

"Later, Potter," spat Draco, sadness roughening his voice as tears threatened to fall. He swallowed the sobs, the saline too close to his cheekbone(1), and managed to bring back up his pride, his family image, and a familiar hatred for Harry.

Harry rushed up the stairs, his face threatening to give his mental state away. He rubbed an arm covered in scratchy wool over his eyes.

Back in the dungeon, Severus Snape was still trying to digest the red marks on the boys' necks, the two hours they'd unnecessarily taken to get the stupid worm, and his dinner, the latter being mutually exclusive with the first.

---------

As Harry trudged into the common room, he noted dimly that everyone was at dinner. He simply continued up to his bed and buried his face in a soft pillow. He didn't have any appetite anyway.

Several hours later, he awoke to Ron's furious screaming echoing from the common room, and Hermione's fruitless efforts to silence her boyfriend.

He didn't move. He didn't move until he was sure he could keep a straight face, and even then it was only to go to the bathroom.

Later that night, Ron only looked at him in vague, mixed fascination and disgust, torn between concern for his heartbroken best friend and disdain for the behaviors Harry had chosen.

Hermione snuck out to the library in the middle of the night, searching through old remedies, finally happening upon the recipe she was looking for in a book of cures for menstrual ailments. She heaved a deep breath as she read the title: "TERMINATING PREGNANCY."

-----------

(1) lyric mostly stolen from Something Corporate - Down. Very good song. nods

Well that's the end of that chapter... kicks self what has it been, 3 years? I doubt anyone remembers this story.  
R/R please.  
EW (same initials as Endless Waltz... i.e. Gundam Wing? Coincidence? I think not! runs off to play matchmaker with 1, 2, 3, and 4... of course not all at the same time)


	10. Tuberose

Iris: Chapter 10

Tuberose

The tuberose is said to signify dangerous pleasure.

Warnings: Sexual content, homosexual relationships, adult language, R/Hm (sorry for not including this until now...)

Yes, I've read HBP. It didn't happen.

---------

The dim yellow-orange lighting of the richly furnished dorm room cast dusky shadows on Harry's stubbly face. It'd been two weeks since the breakup, and he'd barely eaten anything. His cheeks were pale and gaunt, contrasting with the scraggly beard hairs tracing patterns on his chin. His stomach had stopped growling, evidently lacking hope that Harry might put something in it.

He hadn't attended classes. He knew that Draco was moving on; he knew that others knew something was wrong with him. Hermione and Ron were in every day with stilted well-wishes, chocolate frogs and water bottles. Harry thanked them politely and declined when they offered to take him for a walk, to take him on a trip, to visit Hagrid. Only one thing would ever ease this pain. Sure, he'd get over it. But the hurt would always be there. What about his reputation? Harry fucking Potter? What was so great about being a Malfoy, anyway? Harry rolled over and thought bitterly, Well, fuck it. Draco had been worried that the school would find out. The worst way to prevent that is to make the one who knows mad at you. And Draco was going to find out the hard way.

And as soon as Harry felt that thought slip out of his mind, he reeled it back in as if trying to cough up a poisonous drink. He needed closure. He needed to talk to Draco. But he just couldn't get out of bed. He wanted it so much, wanted to feel those hands running over his body, those lips muttering sexual intentions and reluctantly sweet words against his mouth, in his ear. Evidently, he didn't want it badly enough because he couldn't bring himself to leave Gryffindor Tower.

----------

Severus Snape stirred the concoction he was working on as Draco walked into his office, head stiff and obnoxious as ever.

"Professor..."

"Yes?" drawled Snape.

"Um... eh.. never mind.. I just... um... when is the next exam?"

"Cut the bullshit, Malfoy."

"But Prof-"

"I said cut the bullshit. As much as I despise that Potter kid, I despise seeing you fail so miserably even more. Now drag your head out of your arse and do something about this silly little relationship before I have to force feed either one of you a love potion. Get out," hissed the Potions master, fluttering his hands in Draco's general direction as Draco backed out of the dungeon, mouth open wide and eyes confused.

Draco wondered how on Earth Snape had found out. Looking back, it was painfully obvious, but why Snape had kept it a secret, he didn't know. Sure, Snape wouldn't want to ruin Draco's reputation, but his greater motivation was undoubtedly socially torturing Harry as payback for James's behavior.

Draco tried his best to ignore Snape's words.

-------

I think I'll end it there... sorry for the short length. I am too tempted to make them get back together really fast... ughhhh. Stupid pacing.  
I know I've said it a million times, but please review... makes me want to write more...

EW/PK 


	11. Black Rose

Iris: Chapter 11

Black Rose

Warnings: Sexual content, homosexual relationships, R/Hm, H/D, angst, sensitive political issues, adult language, self harm

All right, I've read DH and HBP and whatever... as you can probably tell, they didn't happen in this universe. And HP doesn't belong to me, blah blah blah.

Soundtrack: Bye Bye Beautiful - Nightwish

It was dark in Draco Malfoy's dorm room, despite the watery morning light undoubtedly flooding the other three-fourths of the castle. He shifted, entirely naked, above the covers, turned on his side, curled, uncurled, scratched his stomach, fixed his hair, rolled back over, cleared his throat, and shoved his head back into the pillow. It was Saturday afternoon. He went back to sleep, trying to ignore the sticky trails on his face, the red, raw, hot sting of open cuts on his left wrist. His dreams, however, were but a false reprieve from this sordid state of affairs.

When he awoke again, what he estimated to be two or so hours later, he was painfully numb, angry at himself, angry at Potter, angry at Snape, and fucking indignant. And he wanted to scream, but he didn't, because that wasn't dignified. That was not the Malfoy answer. What he did choose to do was hardly any more Malfoy than the other option, but it kept him silent, hidden, to everyone but himself. He picked up the beautiful silver-laced quill he'd received for his eighth birthday; it had been an unimaginable amount of time since its tip had touched ink, instead stained dark, brownish red, sticky with clear serum from his skin. He held it as if he was going to write something, but instead pressed it to the tender, painful flesh below his left palm, writing words of apology and accusation that no understood, but all they looked like was bloody streaks, like pain and pity and human emotion.

He tied a tight gauze around his left wrist, unwilling to heal the cuts with magic, enjoying the pain it brought him. His left hand was beginning to lose circulation, but he enjoyed the purpling of the flesh, and numb tingling, the wonderful feeling he scraped out of this sinful act. He shook his head, slapped himself across the face, manned up. He arranged his features into the customary Malfoy scowl, clothed himself. He still felt incredibly nude.

Harry's eyes hurt behind his glasses. His brain pressed against their backs, unpleasant pressure more commonly known as a migraine. He'd stopped crying long ago; now he just bordered on catatonic, uncaring, devoid of much personality. He had found it within himself to look as if he was fine, and his friends had stopped worrying about him, for which he was grateful. Besides, they had problems of their own, and they didn't need to preoccupy themselves again with the Boy Who Lived.

But still within his stomach, in his chest, spreading through his neck, were those painful memories, beautiful yet so tortuous. He missed Draco. And he clenched his teeth and was not sad, and was even a little bit angry, but determined to get that dickface back for his own. Fuck the world. Love was love, and damned if Harry Potter was going to take Draco's phobic tyranny lying down (well, in most cases, anyway).

In Potions class, Snape had taken it upon himself to reconcile the two most blatant icons of House rivalry he'd ever seen, in what was indeed a very non-Severus-Snape move. But he remembered too well how difficult it was to see someone you'd been so close to every day and wish that things had not happened the way they happened and maybe want to die.

"The potion you will be brewing today is known for its dangerous, volatile nature. Do take care not to blow off any body parts, or I shall be very tempted to fail your sorry arses." There was a mild gasp spreading through the room. Snape just splayed a shit-eating grin, well, as much of a grin as Severus Snape was capable of rendering, and waved his wand, causing the recipe and reference page numbers to appear on the board. "As for your partners, I have taken the liberty of assigning pairings, so as to AVOID," a pointed glance at Ron, "the catastrophic effects of combining two imbeciles with potent ingredients."

Snape read off his listings, most of them sensical if not pleasing, and somewhere near the bottom third Harry was fidgeting, hoping with a pounding heart that Snape had had some bizarre twist of sensitivity and put him with Draco. 

"Potter, Malfoy." He wasn't sure if he was happy or just nervous, but the look on Draco's face told him they'd be doing very little communicating in the following laborious hours.

As Harry and Draco worked on the tedious potion, they spoke only in muffled grunts, Harry occasionally trying to start some sort of conversation with Draco, Draco being entirely evasive, Snape stopping by to pointedly criticize their work and threaten their extremities if they did not shape up their act.

"Draco, we need more Yule sap." The blonde shrugged and walked calmly over to the shelf adjacent to their lab bench, reaching for the jar he needed, and Harry watched, Draco's shirt slipping upward, revealing a tantalizing expanse of pale skin between his trousers and sweater, and then Harry's eyes shifted upward, to the long fingers that grasped the mixture. Between that beautiful hand and the black sleeve of Draco's sweater was a thick wrapping of white gauze. Harry was confused until he saw the bits of red flesh peeking out from the bottom of the tourniquet. And as he was watching, he realized that Draco had caught his eyes, snarled, and taken down the ingredient in a very indignant, Malfoy fashion.

The rest of the lab period passed in relative silence, few explosions warranting the tirades everyone knew so well from Severus Snape. The man knew what he was doing, after all, even though he was far from a compassionate individual.

When Snape called time, everyone poured samples of their potion into glass flasks and corked and labeled them, passing them up to the Potions master's desk. They shuffled out of the lab quickly, eager to be done with this precarious, stressful portion of the day.

As Harry filed out of the classroom, followed by Draco, he walked slowly in order to detain his ex as long as he could. Everyone else behind him went ahead, and when Harry noticed that they were alone, he seized his chance. He whirled around and pinned Draco against the corridor wall by his wrists, careful not to jar the bandage on his left.

"What the FUCK is this, Draco?"

"Get the hell off of me, Potter," snarled Draco, squirming under Harry's leverage. Though Harry was shorter than he, he was deceptively strong, and Draco soon found he could not move.

"Oh, don't start that. You're hurting yourself, aren't you, you idiot."

"I said get the hell off of me."

"Last time I listened to you we ended up in a place that had both of us miserable and still does. Now you can listen to me or you can not, but I'm not letting you go until we get this fixed." Draco briefly considered hexing Harry into the next century or perhaps yelling for a teacher, but neither seemed a viable option for the sake of his pride.

"All right, Harry. What do you want?"

"I want this back!" hissed Harry, hands swiftly moving to Draco's shoulders, pinning him even harder against the wall, lips forcefully attacking Draco's. Draco tried to turn away but was rendered helpless by those wandering, quick hands, moving over his arms and stomach and chest, lightly grazing the bandage on his wrist, shifting southward to his cock. Harry wondered idly how long Draco would let this go on before-

"Fuck, enough already!" Draco spluttered for air. "I know what you want, but damn it, I don't want it."

"Don't pull that shit, please, Draco, life is short." Draco finally sighed and slumped forward onto Harry, his beautiful head resting on one shoulder, hands lightly wrapped around a slender waist, and then he collapsed in dry sobs, hands clawing at the dungeon floor. It was all Harry could do to follow him down onto the floor, wondering what the fuck had happened.

Thanks for reading! R/R please!

EW/PK 


	12. Baby's Breath

Iris: Chapter 12

Baby's Breath

Warnings: Slash, sexual content, language, R/Hm, H/D, tolerable!Snape, SENSITIVE POLITICAL TOPICS i.e. ABORTION, nonsexual graphicness

HP doesn't belong to me, blah blah blah...

------------

It was a pretty abandoned corridor that Harry had managed to drag Draco down in those past few minutes, but quite frankly, he wouldn't have cared regardless. An hour later found them huddled on the ground, talking quietly. Apologies had been forgone and assumed, explanations pushed aside for Harry's protective rage at what Draco had been doing to himself.

"It's not that big a thing, would you drop it already," Draco pleaded, voice hoarse, back against the stone wall of the dungeon corridor, arms resting on his spread knees, across from Harry, who was kneeling between his legs, pinning him in place symbolically.

"I won't let it go," said Harry, voice soft, "but we don't have to talk about it any more right now." He stroked Draco's cheek, noting the smoothness. Draco, though pretty clearly well on his way to sexual maturity, was somehow unable to grow facial hair. Draco lifted his head and looked Harry in the eye. His face was almost shy, quite sad, unsure. It was startling and strange and so ridiculously un-Draco that Harry was caught off guard. And then he was pinned to the ground under Draco's thin form, their ribs brushing together painfully as a result of the failure of appetite they had experienced in the past weeks. Draco leaned down, oblivious to any discomfort caused by balancing himself on bony elbows upon a stone floor, and touched his lips to Harry's, the shorter boy responding eagerly and lifting his head despite the neck strain it caused, ignoring the unpleasant feeling of his vertebrae and pelvic bones pressed into the ground.

Draco's tongue slipped into Harry's mouth, a sort of promising analogy for what was to come, and Harry eagerly accepted, sucking lightly on the intruding organ. Draco shifted his hands so they cradled Harry's head.

"I think we should probably take this somewhere else," Harry mumbled against Draco's mouth. Draco said nothing, but rose from the ground, freeing Harry briefly before taking his hand and leading him off through the dark, complicated bowels of the dungeon. Harry was lost as to where exactly they were, but Draco seemed to know his way around well enough, and soon they were in a utilitarian yet oddly romantic little bedroom, presumably at one time intended for one of the janitors. 

It wasn't anything fancy; the bed was a twin; the covers were made of itchy wool; and it was pitch black, lit only by the tip of Draco's wand. Harry searched around to find a candle and lit it, Draco extinguishing his wandlight soon after. He pulled the blankets off the bed and laid them gently on the floor.

Draco opened the closet and pulled out a thick down comforter, laying it on top of the rough linen sheet, and then moved to take off his outer layer of robes.

"Let me take care of that," whispered Harry, voice heavy with want and emotion. He knelt on the makeshift mattress, motioning for Draco to follow. Never breaking eye contact, he slipped his hands under the shoulders of Draco's robe, slipping it gently down the slender arms. Once it was placed on the bed, its Gryffindor twin close by, the two laid down, Harry straddling Draco's hips, lightly brushing the pale face with tiny kisses. Draco shucked his shoes off, Harry following suit with his trainers.

------------

Hermione lay in her bed, a cloaking charm hiding her from the rest of the world. She felt terribly ill, almost as if she was having really bad menstrual cramps combined with a stomach flu, her face sweaty, curled up in a ball, breathing heavily and quickly and sickly. She whimpered at the pain each movement caused, each tiny change in the position of her lungs pushing on her abdomen. It hurt so much.

She'd taken the potion about an hour ago, knowing she was at most a month or two pregnant. She knew it would hurt. But at least the pain kept her mind off the terrible shame and sadness she felt. This was a CHILD she was killing, something that could have lived, something that would never live again. And once she got that train of thought going, she was screaming, her voice hoarse, the pain so incredible she couldn't have ever imagined it.

About five minutes later, she felt it, the warm, thick flood in her lower region, spilling onto the towel she'd placed. The cramping subsided. She couldn't bring herself to look at it, muttering "scourgio" to evaporate most of the blood. She cleaned herself off, took some deep breaths, put her underwear and skirt and socks and boots back on. And when she looked back at the bed, her heart broke. There lay a tiny child, no bigger than her thumbnail and devoid of recognizable features, curled up just as she had been. She cried and wrapped the baby up in a handkerchief, placed it in a wooden jewelry box meant for earrings and went to find a decent place to bury it.

"I'm sorry, so sorry, I'm sorry, mama's here, I'm sorry..." she whispered, clutching the little box to her heart. The world turned black around her, but she kept walking, ashamed of herself and terrified for this little child who had never gotten to live.

-------------

Harry groaned when Draco's mouth touched his neck, the cool hands fiddling with the hem of his sweater, prying the white shirt from Harry's trousers. Draco's long fingers snaked between Harry's shirt and sweater, loosening the thick wool from Harry's torso and pulling it over his head, then yanking off the tie and swiftly unbuttoning the shirt despite Harry's persistent stroking of his thigh. Cool air brushed Harry's chest and he shivered briefly before muttering a warming charm and proceeding to peel off Draco's upper garments.

It was enough for awhile, just to feel the bare skin of their chests touching, the peakiness and protruding bones hidden in the low light. They lay there, kissing, hands reuniting, bodies slowly awakening from their painful self-denial and hibernation, until Draco moved to undo Harry's belt. The candle extinguished itself and all that remained was the heavy warmth of the dry dungeon air, the smell of old blankets and the soft, slick sound of kisses, of sucking, of sex and unity and then slow, thick breathing, light snoring, the shifting of covers to protect the warmth of two sweaty, tired bodies.

-------------

Thanks for reading! I know this may not have worked... I don't mean to offend anyone... R/R please, as always!  
EW/PK 


	13. Daisy

Iris: Chapter 13

Daisy

Warnings: Slash, sexual content, language, R/Hm, H/D, sensitive political topics i.e. abortion, ANGST ANGST ANGST

Soundtrack: Nightwish's album Dark Passion Play

I don't own HP or any of the above songs, blah blah blah.

* * *

Hermione returned to her dorm, feeling soggy and incomplete. An echoing pain flooded her abdomen. A nauseating emptiness. As she lay down the world spun around her and her mouth tasted sour and dry and sticky. Her mind was moving way too fast, but she could only think about one thing, and then she remembered what the Muggle doctor had said to her at the end of the course of treatment... and wasn't that potion only supposed to make you bleed from the uterus?

***

Dawn rose, unbeknownst to the two sleeping boys in what had been Filch's quarters about 30 years ago. The night had cooled the air in the room, coercing the unconscious bodies closer together, huddled under blankets. Harry slowly woke, aware of the warm presence next to him, and gave a weak smile to no one in particular, overcome by a feeling of relief and comfort. He stared at the ceiling, closed his eyes - a faint pain behind them, no doubt caused by low blood sugar and dehydration - ran a hand through his hair. He shifted his head to look at Draco - painfully thin, visible even through the covers. Draco's brow was furrowed in sleep, and Harry thought he could see faint tear tracks down the pale cheeks, though it wasn't very clear due to the low lighting. The one alabaster hand that had come up above the blanket to serve as Draco's pillow was white-knuckled, clutching at the makeshift mattress, the red wounds below it faintly smeared with dried blood. Draco whimpered in his sleep.

Harry, concerned for his lover, moved to embrace the thin form curled up next to him. He held Draco close against his naked - and, quite honestly, equally thin chest - and felt some tension drain out of the pale body. Draco seemed to have woken from whatever unpleasant dream he was seeing. He pushed away slightly so he could look at Harry's face.

"Hey there." Harry pressed a light kiss to Draco's forehead. Though he wasn't used to being taken care of like that - he was certainly a Type A personality - he relaxed into the touch.  
Harry's hands reached up to cup Draco's jaw, stroking over the cheeks. Yes, faintly damp.

"What were you dreaming about?"

Draco heaved a sigh and closed his eyes.

"Everything. Nothing. No talking. Sleep." And he curled back into the warm chest in front of him.

"Draco, I'm serious."

Another sigh. The blonde rolled onto his back and folded his arms across his chest.

"It didn't even make any sense. I don't know, you were gone, somewhere, no idea where. You just weren't there. And I was alone, and .. God, I sound like such a pussy! ... and... I don't know, I guess... it scared me. It *hurt*. Physically. Like I was flying but way too fast. Too much adrenaline."

"I think that's more words than you've said to me in the past two weeks combined."

"Don't get used to it."

"Prat." A playful smile, tinged with lingering concern.

"Too much talking, not enough fucking."

Harry extinguished the candle burning in the room. He did not want to see the scars, the protruding bones, the pain. The awareness was too much. And so he made love to a memory, for those blissful minutes living in the warmth and ecstasy and rush of the first weeks they'd had.

***  
Several hours later, spent and satisfied, Harry and Draco finally roused themselves from the blankets, summoned some light and got dressed. The room was easily restored to its previous state. Suddenly weak on his feet, Harry sat down on the bed, leaning against the wall. He let his eyes shut and spoke softly.

"I'm so hungry."

"Then eat something."

"There's nothing to eat."

"Don't be an ass. It's got to be lunch time. Or at least you can send to the kitchens for food."

"Too much effort."

"Oh, for God's sake, Harry. You're such a girl sometimes, you know that?"

"Nnnngh." No more response. Draco rolled his eyes. The Boy Who Lived, it seemed, was not adept at balancing a naturally high metabolism with a busy schedule and... emotional stress? Draco didn't want to think about his own issues, much less about what they were doing to Harry. But his stomach growled and he realized he also needed food. So he set out of the room to grab something to eat for himself and Harry.

***

The walk from the small bedroom to the main dungeon was longer than he'd remembered, and the walk up the stairs was even worse. But the traffic there was much lower than usual. What day was it? Saturday, he imagined. He supposed most of the student body was at Hogsmeade, or else studying, or sleeping in. He made his way towards the Great Hall and looked in; the tables were bare of food though packed with students. An eerie silence lingered in the air, broken by a clear, tinkling voice that could only belong to the Headmaster.

"I believe that some of you have already heard of the recent tragedy involving our Head Girl, Hermione Granger. Needless to say, she is in the infirmary, under the watchful eye of Madam Pomfrey. I would like to quash the more severe of the rumors that have come to my attention - namely, that Voldemort is behind this, or else that some similar malignancy has invaded the grounds. At this point it appears that Miss Granger has suffered complications of a misbrewed potion; we expect her to make a full recovery soon. Meanwhile, her tutees and advisees should proceed..."

Draco backed away from the Great Hall, digesting this piece of information. As he returned to the dungeon - there was food in the Slytherin common room, he knew - he passed the infirmary. As he had expected, it was abuzz with activity; but the words he heard were not what the excerpt of Dumbledore's speech had prepared him for. "Somebody bring me a Heart-Start Draught! Quickly!" "Don't touch her!" "No, no, she needs to be stable first, we can't possibly try to test that yet -" "The recipe she used would only interact this way with a chemotherapy drug -" All of these supported by the pained, weepy voice of Professor McGonagall, alternating between casting what sounded like healing charms and short epithets reminding whoever lived Up There that he had no right to take her away like this.

Draco's stomach did a flip. Frankly, he didn't give a shit about Hermione - she was beyond annoying, self-righteous, and to top it all off, a Mudblood - but he did give a shit about Harry. And he had not forgotten how they'd gotten into this situation in the first place - only because she was fucking *missing* for a few days. If Harry had gotten so messed up over that, how the hell was he supposed to deal with the prospect of a definite, serious illness - of real and proximate death?

* * *

I hope y'all aren't too confused by the references I've been making re: Hermione's condition. I realized I hadn't addressed why she was gone for those first few days, so I got to thinking, and... well... we'll see.  
R/R please )  
EW/PK


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